A Hero's Heartache
by OhioOwl
Summary: A dramatic rescue proves to be a bittersweet experience for Zorro.
1. Adventure

A Hero's Heartache  
1 - _Adventure_

A Hero's Heartache

Chapter 1: Adventure

 **A/N:** This story takes place five and a half years after _A Horse of A Beautiful Color_.

With some difficulty, Alejandro De la Vega shifted in the chair behind his desk in his study. Of all the forms of earthly penance God had devised for man, the old don considered gout to be the worst. Diego, summoned to the study with Margarita and young Alejandro, leaned forward and asked with concern, "Father, are you all right?"

"I am fine," came the brisk reply, which of course was not really true. He took a deep breath. "You remember last summer when we had dinner with Don Domingo Cortez and his two brothers?"

"Of course!" declared Diego. "Rosarita's father and her uncle from San Buenaventura had come to visit their brother Miguel who lives here in Los Angeles."

"As I recall it was a very pleasant evening," offered Margarita.

" _Sí_ , and we spoke much of horses over our dinner," continued the elder De la Vega. Then he picked up a piece of paper from the desk. "I have received a letter from Don Lorencio Cortez —"

"The brother who lives near San Buenaventura," interrupted Diego.

His father shot him an annoyed look. "— who tells me that he has just taken delivery of four Arabian mares, and he wishes to breed them to our Conquistador. Assuming all is successful, each of us will keep two of the offspring." He set down the letter. "I am very much inclined to do this. In fact, I plan to accompany Conquistador to San Buenaventura so I can visit with Don Lorencio and see these mares for myself."

"I think that's a fine idea, Father, as long as you are well enough to travel. But what does that have to do with Margarita and me?"

"It concerns Margarita and you because I propose to take Alejandro with me."

"Abuelo! _Sí_!" exclaimed the boy, sitting up suddenly, his eyes wide with excitement.

"The two of you, alone, all the way to San Buenaventura!" cried Margarita, aghast. "That's far too dangerous!"

"No no _mi hiha_!" replied Don Alejandro, raising his hand, palm out, to calm her. "There will be six of us. Alejandro, myself, two _vaqueros_ to manage Conquistador and a pack horse and two more as guards. All of the _vaqueros_ will be armed."

The response from Alejandro's parents was stony silence.

"I...don't…know," began Diego, shaking his head.

"Come now, Diego, why not? Alejandro is a strong, intelligent lad. He rides well enough for such a journey. Soon he will be twelve years old. It is about time he saw some of the world beyond the Pueblo de Los Angeles. We will make a leisurely journey and spend a night or two under the stars." The elder Alejandro now raised his eyebrows. "Or would you prefer to wait until he runs off with his friend Ricardo to find a golden idol with ruby eyes hidden in the hills by the Indians, like a certain other twelve-year-old that I could name?"

Diego chuckled. "Ah yes, _that_ twelve-year-old. I must admit, you have me there, Father."

Margarita, brows furrowed, looked at her husband. "What?..."

"I see," continued Don Alejandro, "that there are many things about his boyhood that my son has neglected to tell you. But as I said, the _vaqueros_ will be armed and —"

"I could be armed, too!" blurted out the boy.

"No you couldn't," stated both his parents in one voice.

"But how would I be able to protect Abuelo if we were attacked?"

At this Don Alejandro De la Vega threw back his head and laughed. "I assure you, _mi nieto_ , that as old and feeble as I might appear to you, I am still perfectly capable of protecting myself!" He turned his attention back to Alejandro's parents. "Well?"

Margarita looked at her husband. He was giving her that cajoling look that she could almost never resist, his hazel eyes twinkling. Then she looked at son's hopeful face. "I think I'm outnumbered here." Turning back to the elder Alejandro she sighed and declared, "Very well, he may go. But you must take very good care of him."

The old don beamed. "It is settled then! I will reply to Don Lorencio and we will make arrangements!"

" _Gracias_ _Papá_ , _gracias_ _Mamá_!" Alejandro jumped up and was about to run out of the room when his father's voice stopped him dead in his tracks.

"Alejandro, your manners _por favor_."

The boy bowed to his grandfather and said, very formally, " _Con permiso_."

"Of course!" replied the old don, as formally as his grandson but grinning all the while.

Then Alejandro walked slowly over to the doorway. Once through, however, the three adults could hear him shouting as he ran down the hall: "Roberto! Roberto! I'm going on a trip with _Abuelo_!"

* * *

A few weeks later a small traveling party was gathering outside the patio gate at the De la Vega _hacienda_. The _vaqueros_ were holding the horses, and young Alejandro and his grandfather were saying their good-byes to the family. Diego placed a hand on his son's shoulder: "Adios, _mi hijo_. Above all things, listen to _Abuelo_."

"I will, _Papá_ ," replied the boy, who then turned to his mother.

"Be careful, Alejandro. If there is any trouble go to your grandfather and do exactly as he tells you," she said, hugging him tightly.

"Of course, Mamá," he replied with great dignity, pulling away and resenting somewhat that his mother seemed to believe he was still a child. He walked over to his horse and Diego gave him a boost up into the saddle. He settled in and picked up the reins.

Now Diego faced his father, who was smiling broadly. "Diego, I believe this trip is making me feel younger already, and we have not even left the _hacienda_ yet." The two men embraced, patting each other's back. "We should return in ten to twelve days. If there is some significant delay I will send word." He swung into the saddle and the _vaqueros_ followed suit. Conquistador, on a double lead, began to toss his head and paw the ground, restless from standing idle for so long. "See," cried the elder De la Vega, "even he wants to be on our way." The group turned their horses and cantered down the track to the main road, waving over their shoulders to those they had left behind.

" _Vaya con Dios_!" called Margarita, waving in return. "Isabella," she said to her five-year-old daughter who was standing beside her, "wave good-by to your brother." The little girl loosed one hand from her doll and complied. The younger two children, Estevan and toddler Emmaline, had not come out.

As the group receded down the road Margarita leaned back against her husband, who wrapped his arms around her waist. "He looks so small…"

"He couldn't be safer, _querida_. He is in the company of five men, each of whom would give his life to protect him. Especially my father."

"Let's hope it never comes to that," she replied with a sigh.

"Where is Alejandro going?" asked Isabella in her small voice.

"To see something of the world," replied her mother.

"But why couldn't I see something of the world?" protested nine-year-old Roberto. His face had been in a permanent pout since breakfast. "I ride almost as well as Alejandro does."

Diego got down on one need and addressed his second son. "Your turn will come one day, I promise."


	2. Visitors

A Hero's Heartache  
2 - _Visitors_

Chapter 2: Visitors

 **A/N:** _Gitano_ means "gypsy" in Spanish.

Eight days later Diego and Bernardo were crossing the patio when Benito and Pablo entered by the gate. " _Patrón_ , we must speak with you."

"Is something wrong?" asked Diego.

"Perhaps. Tell him, Pablo," said Benito, nodding at his companion.

"Yesterday I was patrolling the herd up in the high meadow. You know, the one where the Señora had her accident all those years ago."

" _Sí_ , I know it well."

" _Patrón_ , there are _gitanos_ camping there. Four caravans."

"Gypsies, truly? What are they doing?"

"Nothing so far, _Patrón_ , just camping there. But their reputation is not good. They are all said to be thieves and scoundrels and charlatans," replied Pablo.

"Do you want us to run them off?" asked Benito.

Diego thought for a moment. While the idea of _gitanos_ camping on De la Vega land did not exactly thrill him, it really didn't alarm him either. If they were keeping to themselves and doing no harm, perhaps they should simply be left in peace until they moved on.

"Are any cattle missing?" he asked.

Pablo shook his head. "I do not believe so, _Patrón_."

"Then let them be. Perhaps they will be gone soon."

"As you wish, _Patrón_ ," replied Benito. The two men nodded to Diego and left.

Once Diego and Bernardo reached the empty _sala_ , Bernardo tapped his master on the shoulder and gave him a dark look. "Bernardo, you don't trust gypsies?" The _muzo_ shook his head violently. "But they appear to be doing no harm." Bernardo pointed at Diego, pointed at Diego's forehead, and shrugged his shoulders, arms out and palms upward. "But I don't know that for sure." Now the _muzo_ nodded vigorously. "Very well. Tonight Zorro will visit their camp and investigate. Will that make you feel better?" Bernardo nodded in approval. "But now I must hurry. I have promised Roberto a chess lesson."

* * *

Zorro guided Tornado through the woods at a walk. Ahead he could see the caravans highlighted by the flickering glow of the campfire and hear indistinct voices. When he was about twenty feet from the edge of the trees he dismounted and eased forward. The soft vegetation of the forest floor muffled his steps as well as those of his horse. He drew his pistol and uncurled his whip. At the very edge of the meadow he slipped out from behind a large tree and crept to the edge of the circle of firelight and suddenly announced: " _Buenos noches, señores_."

Those sitting around the fire started, frightened by a strange being who seemed to have materialized out of the night itself. An older man jumped up and began to aim a pistol. A younger man started up and drew a large knife. But the whip in Zorro's right hand sent the pistol flying into the darkness, and the pistol in Zorro's left hand encouraged everyone else to stay put. The younger man dropped the knife and sat down again.

"Who are you, and what is your business here?" demanded the masked man.

"I am Juan Petulengro, the _Rom Baro_ — what you would call a 'chieftain'. And these are my clan," replied the old man, sweeping his arm around to include the rest of the group.

"And what are you doing here?" asked Zorro.

"We do what we must to stay alive, señor," he replied calmly. "As we always have." Señor Petulengro now looked Zorro up and down. "And who, may I ask, are you?"

"I am El Zorro, defender of the weak and friend of the poor," he replied, still holding the pistol at the ready.

"Well, señor, if you are looking for the poor, you have surely come to the right place. We are _gitanos_ , as I'm sure you have guessed We move from place to place because everyone despises our kind and wishes us gone from their land."

Zorro looked at the group around the fire. There were three or four men his own age, one or two still older men, perhaps five women of varying ages, one very old woman dressed entirely in black, and a handful of children ranging from a boy just into his teens to a small girl of perhaps six or seven huddled next to one of the women and wrapped closely in a shawl. All of them looked like they could use one of Rosa's hearty dinners. Then he noticed the large pot simmering over the fire. "What are you eating?" he asked.

"It is only rabbit," answered one of the women. "Rabbit and a few vegetables."

The old man spoke again: "Surely, señor, you do not begrudge us the meat that God gives us freely?"

"I do not," replied Zorro. "But of what of that cheese?" he asked, pointing the pistol at a large white chunk of cheese sitting on a cloth next to the man with the knife.

"It is from the old man who keeps goats near the pueblo. 'Martinez' perhaps his name was. Or was it 'Morales'? We were able to mend one of his large milk troughs and he paid us in kind. Go and ask him if you do not believe me."

Zorro opened his mouth to ask another question but before he could speak the little girl began to cough. The cough came from deep in her chest and continued for at least a full minute. Finally she settled back against the woman who was presumably her mother. Even in the firelight the child's pallor was noticeable. "The child is ill," the outlaw observed. "There is fine doctor in the _pueblo_."

"We have our own remedies. As I told you, everyone despises us so we keep to ourselves as much as possible."

Zorro took a last look around. He saw nothing truly amiss so he tucked his pistol back into his _banda_ and whistled for Tornado. As the stallion made his way through the trees to his master, Zorro continued: "This is the land of Don Alejandro De la Vega. I will speak to him on your behalf. As long as you do no harm you may stay here for a few days in peace."

The old man nodded slightly and then said, "One question, Señor Zorro. Are you familiar with this _pueblo_?" Zorro nodded. "Then can you tell me, when is the market day? We prefer to take what God gives us, but alas, he does not give us flour or salt. These we must buy."

"Three days from today. But what have you to offer at the market?"

"We will sell our wares —"

Here one of the men held up a small figure of a horse that he had been carving. Another reached around and held up a tooled leather pouch.

"— we will mend pots if there is need. We will also make music —"

Another man played a few pleasant notes on a fiddle.

"— and perhaps, if the _padres_ will permit us," he said, nodding at the old woman in black, "old Florica will read a palm or two." Here the old woman fixed her ebony eyes on Zorro, her face an expression that he could not read.

Still, Zorro could think of no reason to try to stop them from coming to the market for supplies. "Very well, but see that you conduct your affairs in good order." And he mounted up and turned Tornado back into the woods and disappeared.

But on the way home, he decided that Don Diego and Bernardo would go to market day just to keep an eye on things, and that Zorro's costume and Tornado would be close at hand.

* * *

A/N: Reviews/comments are always welcome!


	3. Handwork

A Hero's Heartache  
3 - _Handwork_

Chapter 3: Handwork

Market day dawned clear and sunny. Diego's concern for the _gitanos'_ reception was such that he had explained the situation to Margarita and asked her to ride into the _pueblo_ with him somewhat earlier than usual. Bernardo and the supply wagon were to follow on later. In truth, the supply wagon was not really needed today, but the heap of sacks and canvas coverings kept behind the driver's seat provided ideal concealment for Zorro's garb and sword.

When husband and wife arrived at the plaza, everyone was just about finished setting up their stalls and arranging their wares. The _gitanos_ had brought only a single caravan. Juan Petulengro and one of the other gypsies had chosen a spot near where the south road entered the plaza, slightly apart from the other booths. This seemed prudent to Diego. He and Margarita found a shady table on the inn's patio and ordered breakfast. From this spot they could casually keep an eye on the _gitano_ booth and its customers. As usual, business was initially slow. By midmorning things had picked up, but in spite of the increase in customers most people gave the gypsy booth a wide berth.

When Bernardo arrived with the wagon he scanned the plaza until he found Diego and Margarita. Walking across the plaza toward them he noticed a gypsy wearing a red bandanna performing slight-of-hand "magic" for two children. The _muzo_ approached Diego and Margarita and pointed out the location of the wagon. Diego indicated that Bernardo was to mingle with the crowd and keep his eyes open as usual.

Bernardo nodded and left the two of them, but somehow found himself drawn toward the man performing the "magic". This was one of Bernardo's many talents, and he was proud of it. He paused to observe the gypsy's performance. When the man actually dropped a coin that was supposed to be plucked from behind a child's ear, Bernardo frowned and slowly shook his head, thinking: _Needs more practice_. Red Bandanna unfortunately saw this and took offense.

"Oh, so you think you can do better?" he asked, not knowing that Bernardo was "deaf". Several more children had now gathered to watch. One of the older ones explained about Bernardo's "deafness". Undaunted, Red Bandanna stepped toward Bernardo and held out the coin. Bernardo stood up tall, tossed his head, tugged on the lapels of his jacket, and took it. He stepped forward and with all the children's eyes on him he made a vertical fist with his left hand, pushed the coin down between his fingers, then waved his right hand over the fist. Suddenly he opened an empty left fist — the coin had disappeared! Shrugging his shoulders and looking around, Bernardo saw a small girl with a doll. He leaned down and produced the coin from behind the doll's ear, much to the delight of the girl, who giggled, and to the rest of the children who applauded. Bernardo smiled, bowed, then held the coin out to Red Bandanna: _Your turn now!_

Thus the Battle of the Nimble Fingers was joined. For the next twenty minutes or so, coins, small rocks, buttons, and even an egg disappeared into thin air and reappeared in the most extraordinary places. As parents came seeking their children, the crowd grew. And a few other adults drifted over, attracted by the applause. Finally, Bernardo walked over to an older girl whose braids were tied up with pink ribbon. He pointed at a ribbon and then at himself. She understood and nodded, then undid the ribbon and handed it to him. He rolled it up into a tight ball and apparently put it into his mouth. He made very exaggerated chewing and swallowing motions, then pointed to his open his mouth to show that it was empty. He walked over to Red Bandanna and slapped him once on the back, causing a small cough. A second slap caused a louder cough. Finally a third slap brought on a still larger cough and for this one Bernardo had placed his left hand in front of Red Bandanna's mouth. Withdrawing the hand, the muzo reached up with his right hand — and pulled out from his left hand the missing pink ribbon, to enthusiastic applause.

But when he tried to return the ribbon to the girl, she made a face and backed away, reluctant to accept something that had obviously been in Red Bandanna's mouth. Bernardo seemed to understand, for he nodded, dropped the pink ribbon and took the girl's two hands and placed them together as though she were praying. Again waving his right hand, he opened up the praying hands to reveal — two bright, new, clean lengths of blue ribbon. Now the applause was wild. The girl hugged Bernado who smiled broadly. Red Bandanna threw up his hands in defeat. The two "magicians" graciously bowed to each other and then to their audience.

As the onlookers began to move away, some of them drifted over to the caravan and began examining the goods for sale. The fiddler struck up a tune. One man picked up a leather belt. A woman began fingering an embroidered scarf. Diego and Margarita had now joined the small crowd. Stopping next to the man who was holding the belt, Diego observed, "It looks very well made to me, Francisco."

"You think it is safe to trade with these people, Señor De la Vega?" the man asked.

"I see no reason not to," he replied. "Their goods are well made. The price, as far as I can tell, is fair. If you like you can go and ask the storekeeper what he would charge for a similar belt if he had one."

"The music is delightful as well," added Margarita. "They've caused no trouble, and the children were very entertained."

Diego suddenly found Señor Petulengro at his elbow.

"Your pardon, but are you perhaps Señor Alejandro De la Vega?"

"Alejandro De la Vega is my father."

"Then I hope you will convey our thanks to him for letting us stay on his land. At least I hope the strange masked rider who offered to speak to him on our behalf actually did so."

"Ah, El Zorro! Yes, I know the words he spoke to you. My father is away just now, but I assure you that you have my permission to stay as long as you remain in peace."

The gypsy beckoned off to the side and the old woman in black whom Diego had seen at the campsite emerged from the caravan.

"By way of thanks, let Florica read your palms."

"That is really not necessary —" began Diego

"Oh but it might be fun!" declared Margarita. "In any case I'm sure it would do no harm." She held out her right hand.

The old woman studied it for a minute and traced one or two of its lines with her finger. "You are strong in the face of adversity, Señora… You are also very kind... You have wholly given your heart and you have given it forever... And an old man has much joy in the children you have borne… And the next child, a boy, you will name for a soldier." She dropped Margarita's hand and turned to Diego. "Señor?"

He was skeptical. Anyone who had known Margarita for ten minutes could have said those things about her. As to the "next child" business, he looked at his wife, puzzled. She was laughing and clearly enjoying herself, so he held out his right hand. The old woman took it and started. She looked up at him with narrowed eyes, then returned her gaze to his palm for a long time. Finally she curled his fingers up over his palm, looked at him with the same unreadable expression that he had seen on her face at the campfire, and said, "Señor, you have a secret. And it is best left that way." Then she dropped his hand and walked away.

Margarita felt herself go cold. "What did you say to her that night?" she asked, pulling her shawl tighter as they walked back across the plaza.

"Nothing! I spoke only to Señor Petulengro. And I certainly never took off my gloves, so she has never seen my hand before," he replied tersely.

"Then what was the woman talking about?"

"It is just a ruse, I tell you. Like the 'next child' we are having. We already have a child named after a soldier — Roberto, after your father." And with that they wound their way back across the plaza to their horses.


	4. Evening

A Hero's Heartache  
4 - _Evening_

Chapter 4: Evening

The evening of market day found Don Alejandro and his party camping about twelve miles distant from Los Angeles. The trip, as far as he was concerned, had been wildly successful. Don Lorencio inspected Conquistador and immediately pronounced him the finest stallion he had ever seen. He ordered the horse to be placed in a paddock near the four Arabian mares who would soon be receiving his attentions.

Don Lorencio had been delighted to see them and his hospitality was lavish. Rosarita's father, Don Domingo, had come down from Monterrey expressly for the visit. Young Alejandro did his grandfather proud. His manners were impeccable — as far as the manners of any eleven-year-old boy can be impeccable — and his conversations were intelligent and respectful. Don Lorencio proved himself an equal match for the elder Alejandro at chess. Everyone was content.

With some regret, after four days the party had begun to make its way back to Los Angeles. Don Lorencio had insisted on replenishing their provisions so they had ample supplies for the return trip. Now, with a campsite set up and the evening meal finished, they were settling in for their last night under a deep blue canopy studded with stars. As the last of the daylight faded, Don Alejandro, leaning back against a fallen tree, called his grandson over to sit beside him.

"We will be home tomorrow, _mi nieto_ ," the old don began. "Since I have not sent ahead they will not be expecting us. And since I do not want to greatly inconvenience Rosa by requiring a sudden meal for six, I believe we will stop in the _pueblo_ and eat at the inn."

" _Sí Abuelo_ ," replied the boy, wondering where his grandfather was going with this highly domestic conversation.

Don Alejandro remained silent for a moment, staring into the fire. Then he turned to his grandson and continued, with a slight smile: "Alejandro, you know that I would never, ever, ask you to lie to your parents."

"I know that," replied the boy, looking at his grandfather's face in the flickering light.

"So if your father or your mother ever asks you, 'Alejandro, did Abuelo allow you to practice firing his pistol when you went with him to San Buenaventura?' you know how you must answer, don't you?"

Alejandro made a worried face. "I must say ' _sí_ '. But I think that if I do they will be very angry with me."

"I don't think you have to worry about that," replied the old don, tousling the boy's hair and smiling. I am sure they would be much more angry with me."

"Really, Abuelo?"

"Really. But having agreed that you must tell the truth if asked, I see no reason why you should ever speak of the incident unless you are specifically asked."

"Given the way it turned out, I would prefer not to speak of it ever," mumbled the young one. The noise of the shot was far louder than he had anticipated, the pistol went flying out of his grasp, and the recoil had knocked him several steps backwards and onto his buttocks. The _vaqueros_ had all suppressed their smiles and pretended not to notice, but the boy was profoundly embarrassed all the same.

"So, this will be our little secret," declared his grandfather.

" _Gracias_ , Abuelo. I think this will be a secret that is easy to keep."

"Ah yes, the old don agreed. "De la Vega men can keep a secret when they have to."

* * *

The evening of market day found Diego and Margarita preparing to head back to the De la Vega _hacienda_. While Margarita handed off her last-minute purchases to Bernardo to be loaded her into the wagon, Diego remained at a shady table on the _taberna_ patio watching the activity in the plaza. A sudden movement across the way, accompanied by loud voices, caught his attention. He shifted his gaze to the front porch of Señor Avila's store. The storekeeper was having an animated discussion with Juan Petulengro and Red Bandanna. A third _gitano_ carrying a large sack of perhaps flour stood slightly behind the other two men. Next to Señor Avila stood Sergeant Garcia. The portly lancer seemed to be trying to calm the storekeeper down. Finally the three _gitanos_ turned and headed back toward their caravan. Senor Avila went into his store, and the sergeant began walking across the plaza toward the _cuartel_.

By the time Garcia came abreast of the patio, Diego and Margarita had mounted up and Bernardo had already left with the wagon. "Sergeant!" called out Diego, reining in his horse. The lancer walked over to them. "Is there something wrong at the store?"

The sergeant let out an exasperated sigh. "No, not really, Don Diego. It seems that Señor Avila is — well, let us just say he is not comfortable dealing with the _gitanos_. He asked me to be there when they came to make their purchases and since I did not want any trouble I obliged him."

"Why would the _gitanos_ wan to make trouble for the storekeeper?" asked Margarita. "They need his goods."

"Oh, they most certainly did not make trouble, Señora. They did business just like anyone else. The problem was Señor Avila. He was reluctant to serve them, and it showed in his manner. They were not happy about the way he spoke to them. I had to remind him that their money was as good as anyone else's in the _pueblo_ , especially since most of their pesos had come from the goods they sold there today."

"And how did Senor Avila reply?" she asked.

"He just shrugged and walked back into the store, and the _gitanos_ took their supplies and left."

"Well, a decent enough ending to a good day," said Diego, watching the distant caravan make its way down the road away from the _pueblo_. Let's hope nothing else unpleasant happens to them while they are here."

* * *

The evening of market day found Padre Vicente in his study, counting the last of the coins and adding them to the leather pouch. He was satisfied that the Pueblo de Los Angeles' contribution to the restoration of the great bell in Mexico City's cathedral was a generous one indeed.

Fourth months previously, the headstock and pivot of _Santa Maria de Guadalupe_ , the newest and largest bell in the Cathedral of the Assumption, had begun to work their way loose from the bell wheel. It appeared that the bell mechanism would have to be disassembled and a new wheel put in place, at considerable expense. So the bishop of Mexico City had sent out an appeal to all of the churches in both Alta and Baha California for donations and on the last Sunday of the past three months a special collection had been taken up at Mass. Landowners had given freely, and most of the faithful of lesser means had contributed as well.

Padre Vicente had also taken to making his way around the plaza on market day, cajoling an extra peso or two from both the merchants and their customers. He decided that today's effort, which had been worthwhile, would be his last. Tomorrow he would begin making arrangements for sending the money to the bishop. He was just tying the pouch closed when a peon burst through the office door.

"Padre, there has been a terrible accident! You must come at once! Sancho has been badly hurt. He may be dying!"

"Of course, my son," responded the priest, rising immediately. "Come, I must fetch some things from the sacristy." The two men hurried to the little room off of the church where the vestments, sacred vessels, and sacramental oils were kept. In his concern for the injured man, Padre Vicente had forgotten all about the pouch of coins sitting on his desk.

A short while later, young Padre Juan, back from an errand and now looking for Padre Vicente, found the pouch lying there in plain sight. He knew that Padre Vicente would only have left it like that due to some emergency. He also knew that Padre Vicente would want him to put it away in its normal place. Unfortunately Padre Juan, very new to the pueblo, had no idea where the normal place was. The young friar thought about putting the money in one of the desk drawers, but he did not have a key to lock the desk. So he looked around and saw the large cupboard where various record books and journals were stored. He opened the doors and saw plenty of space for the pouch. But he was still reluctant to leave the money more or less visible to anyone who opened the cupboard. He decided to tuck the pouch safely behind the books containing the _pueblo's_ baptismal records. He was sure no one would think to look for it there.

Padre Juan was absolutely right. No one would think to look for it there.

* * *

Much later the evening of market day found Florica crushing herbs and brewing a tisane for young Jaelle, the girl with the persistent cough. The ailment had grown noticeably worse during the day, and now it appeared that she was also taking a fever. This tisane was the strongest remedy among Florica's many preparations. If this did not help the girl, there was nothing else the old gypsy could do.


	5. Alarms

A Hero's Heartache  
5 - _Alarm_

Chapter 5: Alarms

The next morning, after early Mass, Padre Vicente and Padre Juan parted ways for the day. Padre Vicente headed to his study to go about the daily business of the church. Padre Juan got on his mule and headed out to San Gabriel to deliver some newly arrived books to Padre Felipe. The young priest expected to be back sometime mid-afternoon.

It was about two hours later that an agitated Padre Vicente was shown into _Comandante_ Garcia's office. "Ah, _buenos dias_ , Padre! What can I — " The look on the padre's face stopped the sergeant in mid-sentence.

" _Comandante_ , something terrible has happened! The money that we have been collecting for the cathedral bell in Mexico City. I am afraid it has been stolen!"

"Stolen, Padre? But this is most serious! Are you sure?"

"I think it must have been. Last evening I was adding the coins I collected at the market to the pouch. But I was called away to anoint a severely injured man. I believe I left the pouch sitting on the desk in the study. Fortunately the man did not die, but I sat with him and Dr. Avila until almost midnight, and when I returned to the church I went directly to bed."

"Go on," encouraged Garcia.

"This morning when I entered the study I to begin my day's work I realized the pouch was no longer sitting on the desk. At first I thought I had remembered wrongly, that I had put the pouch away in the drawer where I usually keep it. But the drawer was empty, as were all the other drawers in the desk! I have searched the entire study — desk, book shelves, cupboard, everything. Sergeant, the money is nowhere to be found."

"But who in the pueblo would steal from the church?" asked the lancer, mystified. "Come, Padre. You and I will search your study together. If we cannot find the money, I will make the rounds of the merchants on the plaza and ask each one if he or she noticed anything or anyone unusual around the church yesterday during the market."

"That is most kind of you, Sergeant," replied the priest, still very upset. "Let us hope God rewards your efforts better than He rewarded mine.

* * *

Just after noon Pablo, one of the De la Vega _vaqueros,_ brought Don Alejandro's horse Soldado and another horse into Los Angeles to have them shod. After tying them up at the blacksmith's and explaining to Celestino what was needed, he noticed _Comandante_ Garcia and two lancers making their way around the plaza, speaking to the merchants and vendors who had stands there.

"What is the _comandante_ doing? Has something happened?" Pablo asked the Indian.

Celestino pumped the bellows a few times and adjusted an iron on the coals. "Oh yes, something has happened. The money that Padre Vicente has collected for the repair of the bell in Mexico City has disappeared. They have searched the study and the church itself and found nothing. Now they are forced to believe it really has been stolen.

"But who would do such a thing? It was an ordinary market day with the usual stalls, was it not?"

" _Sí_ , mostly. But Señor Avila is convinced it must have been the _gitanos_. It is true they were here for most of the day. But they parked their caravan on the other side of the plaza, about as far away from the church as you can get and still be in the _pueblo_. And because of the bright way they dress I am sure that if one of them had been anywhere near the church he would have been noticed."

Celestino turned back to his bellows for a few more pumps. "But the storekeeper is absolutely sure it was them. He has already demanded that Sergeant Garcia take a lancer patrol out to their camp and arrest them all. The _comandante_ told him that once he has finished questioning everyone within the pueblo he will take a small patrol to their camp to question the _gitanos_. This just made the storekeeper angrier, and I think he plans to go to the tavern later to try to get those who come for dinner to form an armed party and go after them himself."

At this Pablo became alarmed. "Celestino, _por favor_ , permit me to leave the horses here and return to the _hacienda_. Don Diego will want to know of this, for the _gitanos_ are camped on our land."

* * *

At the gitano campsite, Florica frowned and shook her head. In spite of her best efforts little Jaelle was no better. She had awakened with a fever and it was now definitely growing worse.

"Have you no other remedy?" asked the girl's mother.

"I am sorry, Sabina, this was the last and strongest of my preparations, and it does her no good."

"Did not the masked one say there was a doctor in the pueblo?"

"Yes, he did. But you know you must ask the _Rom_ _Baro_ for permission to take her. And a doctor must be paid."

Two tears rolled down the mother's cheeks, and she began to finger one of her large gold l earrings. Florica signed. "Very well, we will speak to the _Rom_ _Baro_ together."

* * *

When Pablo arrived back at the De la Vega hacienda he went straight to Don Diego and told him what was happening in the pueblo.

"Celestino seems to think that Señor Avila is bent on doing harm to the _gitanos_."

" _Gracias_ , Pablo," said Diego. "You have done well to inform me immediately." He went into the kitchen where Rosa and Margarita, with Isabella on her lap, were having _limonada_ and discussing the next several days' menus. " _Querida_ , if I could speak with you for a moment?" Isabella obediently shifted over to Rosa. Diego's wife rose and they stepped out the back door. "I must ride out as Zorro and warn the _gitanos_ not to come into the _pueblo_ for a few days. Will you have Arturo find Bernardo and send him to our room?"

"Of course," she replied, brushing an unruly lock of hair away from his eyes. "But why as Zorro? Can't you just go yourself?"

"I believe they might argue with Diego. I doubt very much they would argue with Zorro. He made a very strong impression on them the other night," he said with the grin she knew so well.

"So you expect trouble?"

"I hope to avoid it. But we must do something about Roberto. He and I normally play chess around this time of day."

She frowned for a moment, then she said, "Don't worry, once he has finished with his tutor I'll keep him busy at the piano."

"Whatever would Zorro do without his resourceful wife?" he asked, beaming at her. Then he kissed her lightly and headed upstairs to the secret room.

* * *

This time Zorro took Tornado through the woods at a trot. His entrance was not quite as dramatic as materializing out of sheer blackness, but at the last he cantered Tornado into the clearing and pulled him up into a rear to attract attention. He looked at the nearest _gitano_ and declared: "Where is Juan Petulengro? I must speak with him at once!"

"He is not here. He has taken Jaelle and her mother into the _pueblo_ in search of the doctor. The child is burning with fever and can barely breath for coughing so much, and Florica has exhausted all her remedies."

Zorro's face became stern. _The pueblo! Exactly where they should not have gone!_ "The rest of you, above all else stay here on Don Alejandro's land today," he commanded. "There is trouble in the _pueblo_ and you are being blamed for it. I must try to stop it!" And with that he turned back through the woods, and when he reached the road he spurred Tornado into a gallop.

* * *

When Don Alejandro and his party arrived at the pueblo they immediately sensed something was wrong. There was a double guard at the _cuartel_ gate, and it appeared that a lancer patrol was preparing to set out, which was unusual for this time of day. People in the plaza seemed to be hurrying along rather than just making their way casually across the space. For a moment the elder De la Vega considered going directly to his _hacienda_. But he truly did not wish to burden Rosa with a large extra meal for six, so he decided against it. Besides, he and young Alejandro were accompanied by four armed men. Whatever was going on, they would be safe. So while one of the _vaqueros_ took care of their mounts, the rest of them went into the inn and sat at one of the larger tables back towards the fireplace.


	6. Confrontation

A Hero's Heartache  
6 - _Confrontation_

Chapter 6: Confrontation

Señor Pacheco was always pleased when dinnertime business at the inn was this good. The rooms were almost all taken and only a few tables remained empty. Many locals were also dining at the inn this afternoon. After sitting down and ordering the meal for his party, Don Alejandro nodded greetings to several of his neighbors and business acquaintances. All this Zorro observed from behind a decorative hanging at the top of the stairs. He had been lucky enough to slip in through one of the empty rooms and dart across the empty hallway, and he had been watching for some time. He was beginning to wonder if perhaps the storekeeper had given up on the idea of confronting the _gitanos_ when the door opened and a very determined-looking Señor Avila stormed in.

"Señores," he began, "our _pueblo_ has been done a great wrong! The monies we have donated for the cathedral bell in Mexico City have been stolen by the wandering thieves who invaded our market yesterday!"

A murmur arose around the room, but one voice asked: "Is not Sergeant Garcia about to go out and question the _gitanos_?"

"Why should we bother to question them? No one in the _pueblo_ would do such a thing! We know they must have taken the money!"

"The sergeant is too soft," shouted another voice. "You will see — he will question them but unless he finds a pile of gold coins sitting in the middle of their camp he will do nothing!" Now the mood within the inn was shifting. More and more men were looking at the storekeeper and nodding in agreement.

As the storekeeper continued his tirade, a brightly colored caravan pulled up in front of Doctor Avila's office and Juan Petulengro descended and began to knock on the door. A passerby stopped and offered: "At this time of day you will find him eating dinner at the inn." The _gitano_ thanked the man and started across the plaza.

Senor Avila's speech became more and more agitated. Zorro was about to make his presence known when Don Alejandro stood and declared, "Yes, but it is the lancers' duty to see to such things. To attack the _gitanos_ on our own goes against the law." The outlaw waited to see what effect his father's declaration would have.

"We must arrest all of them!" came yet another voice.

"Then find the money and hang the thieves!" said a third.

At this Don Alejandro's _vaqueros_ rose protectively around their patrón, picking up their weapons as they did so. Young Alejandro also rose to stand beside his grandfather. The elder De la Vega placed his hand firmly on the boy's shoulder. "Remain calm," he ordered in a low voice.

It was at this unfortunate moment that the _gitano_ chieftain came through the door of the inn seeking help for the child Jaelle.

"Look! Their leader! There he is!" shouted someone, pointing to the doorway

Men rose from the nearest tables and started toward Petulengro. One of them drew his knife.

"What are you doing?!" cried the gypsy. "I am only seeking the doctor for a sick child!"

"We are seeking our money!" cried a man as he laid his hands on the _gitano_ and threw him into the middle of the room.

"Tell us what you have done with the money you stole or we will hang you right here!"

"I have stolen nothing!" replied the chieftain, rising and trying to fight off his attackers.

"Wait! Wait!" cried Don Alejandro.

"What would you have us wait for?!" shouted Señor Avila.

Things had gone far enough. "Evidence!" shouted Zorro in reply, as he ran halfway down the steps then vaulted over the railing onto the table next to the stairwell wall. Three leaps onto empty tables brought him across the room, and in the next instant his black whip snaked out and sent the threatening knife to the floor. Then, letting the whip fall onto the table, he drew his sword, leaped down to the floor and ran to stand beside the terrified gypsy.

"How can you defend a thief?"

"If you can prove he is a thief I will take him to the _cuartel_ myself!" declared the masked outlaw.

One of the guests at the inn knew little and cared less about the gypsy. But he knew that Zorro was an outlaw with a price on his head, so drew his own blade and stepped forward shouting, "I think there will be two for the _cuartel_!" He came furiously at Zorro, and his skill was good enough that the outlaw had to concentrate to defend himself.

As the two men fenced back and forth across the room, young Alejandro's eyes grew wide with excitement. He was actually in the presence of the fabled El Zorro, watching him fight with grace, strength, and speed! He would have liked to work his way closer to the contest to see better, but his grandfather's hand remained firmly on his shoulder.

Although paying close attention to his opponent, Zorro spied a movement across the room and realized that someone was raising a pistol. His left hand immediately sought his hip — but the whip was not there. Looking around, he realized that it remained on the table where he had dropped it. But the table was not within reach. And now the man was aiming the pistol at Juan Petulengro.

But young Alejandro had followed Zorro's glance and realized what he was looking for. The boy suddenly broke from his grandfather's grasp and darted among the tables. He picked up the whip and threw it to the outlaw, shouting, "Zorro, here!"

Recognizing his son's voice, Zorro froze for an instant. But as the whip flew over the tables toward him he recovered. First, with a lightning parry and thrust he sent the tip of his blade into his opponent's upper arm, disabling him. Then he quickly shifted his sword to his left hand, and in a single movement his right hand snatched the whip out of the air and sent the lash in a long arc across the room. The owner of the pistol cried out in anguish as the leather stung his wrist and the weapon dropped to the floor. Grasping his burning wrist he shouted, "Why do you defend him? He stole the money from the church!"

"HE DID NOT!" thundered a voice from the doorway. All eyes turned to behold Padre Vicente, holding up a leather pouch, with Padre Juan at his elbow. "Nothing has been stolen. The money was in the study all the time."

"This is my fault," began Padre Juan, addressing the stunned crowd. "I concealed the money behind books in the cupboard, but forgot to tell Padre Vicente what I had done before I left for San Gabriel early this morning. I beg all of you to forgive me. Especially you, señor," he said, addressing the _gitano_. For a few moments the silence was deafening. Then, eyes downcast with shame and embarrassment, the diners slowly shuffled back to their tables and resumed their meals.

"Doctor Avila," called Zorro, sheathing his sword, "I believe you have a patient to tend to." The doctor immediately rose and made his way toward the gypsy. The two men conferred briefly, then headed across the plaza to the caravan where Sabina cradled the still-feverish child in her arms.

Don Alejandro had retrieved his grandson, and the two of them were standing quietly gazing at the black-clad outlaw. At that moment, Zorro was seriously troubled as to what he should do. On the one hand, if by some chance young Alejandro should blurt out some form of recognition the consequences were too awful to contemplate. On the other hand it would be most unusual if Zorro failed to thank one who had done him such a great service. Glancing briefly at Don Alejandro, Zorro observed his father nod slightly. So he took a deep breath, smiled, and strode over to his ecstatic son.

"Señor Zorro," began Don Alejandro, "may I present my grandson? This is my son Diego's boy, with whom I share my name."

"A fine addition to your family," replied the masked man, lowering the pitch of his voice slightly. "And brave and alert as well." Now he turned to young Alejandro. _"Muchas gracias_ for your fine throw, young señor," he said, nodding his head and saluting the lad with his usual two finger gesture.

"I…, I…, I was happy to be of service," Alejandro managed to stammer, bowing slightly and still overawed by being in the presence of the fabled El Zorro himself.

 _Margarita's efforts to teach him manners have not been wasted, I see_ , thought his father with some pride.

Yet another commotion seemed to be taking place at the inn's door, and Sergeant Garcia's voice could be heard shouting at someone. "I believe that is the lancers, which means I must take my leave," declared Zorro. " _Adios_ , señores," he grinned, bowing slightly to the two of them and then disappearing through the door to the inn's kitchen.

"Abuelo, let us go home right now!" insisted young Alejandro. "I can't wait to tell Papá and Mamá that I met Zorro and helped him save someone!"

"I think we should finish our meal first," replied his grandfather calmly. "Otherwise if we are hungry later we will have to disturb Rosa for a meal very late in the evening, and I do not wish to do that."

"But Abuelo —"

"We will finish our dinner, Alejandro." _And we will give Senor Zorro enough time to make his way home and turn back into your father._


	7. Storyteller

A Hero's Heartache  
7 - _Storyteller_

Chapter 7: Storyteller

Once outside and mounted again on Tornado, Zorro did not spur directly for the De la Vega _hacienda_ , but rather carefully circled around the _pueblo_ to end up behind Doctor Avila's house. He slipped through the back door into the doctor's preparation room, which was separated from the examining room by curtains. Carefully parting the fabric just an inch or two, he listened.

"Can you do anything for her?" asked a tear-stained Sabina, who was removing one of her gold earrings. She had already removed the first earring and was clutching it in her hand. Doctor Avila responded by holding up his hand for silence. He was bent over Jaelle, listening to her coughing and her ragged breathing using a chest tube. As he stood upright, he noticed a slight movement behind the curtains Zorro parted the panels another inch and nodded. The doctor nodded slightly in return, then returned to the _gitanos_.

"I believe she will recover. The preparation I have given her is undoubtedly very like the one your Wise Woman gave her. But because we have a modern pharmacy here I have access to much purer, much stronger formulas. But I would like her to stay here for a few days so that I may tend her properly. And of course you will stay with her."

Juan Petulengro began to shake his head. "After what happened earlier I do not feel that they will be safe."

"You or one of your men may stay here as well," said the doctor, "but between Zorro and the _padres_ I believe you have nothing to fear. I will also alert Sergeant Garcia that you are staying here and —"

He was interrupted by a knock at the door. Opening it, he found storekeeper Avila standing there. "May I come in?" the man asked. The doctor opened the door further and the storekeeper stepped into the room. Zorro's right hand automatically went to the hilt of his sword.

Avila was silent for a moment, eyes downcast. Then he cleared his throat and with a great effort lifted his gaze and addressed the gypsy chieftain face-to-face. "Señor, I have done you a great injury and I wish to apologize for it. It was wrong of me to judge you and yours the way I did. If not for Zorro I might have had an innocent man's blood on my hands." He looked down for a moment at his open palms. "I ask for your forgiveness."

Regarding him with a stony expression, the _gitano_ replied in a level voice: "It is past. But we must stay here until the child is well enough to travel. While we are here we wish only to be left in peace. Now farewell."

"I will help see to your safety myself," the storekeeper declared, turning to leave.

Sabina held out her gold earrings. "For your fee, doctor."

"No," said Señor Avila, turning back. "I will pay the doctor's fee for attending your child. The _padre_ offered to pay from the church fund, but I told him I would do it. Yet…," he paused and looked back at the chieftain, "before you set out on the road again, señor, come to my store."

"And why should I do that?" asked Juan Petulengro.

"Because, to my great shame, you left with less than you actually paid for. I will make all right. And if you pass through this area again, come and see me. I will supply all your needs at a fair price, I swear it." And with that he left and made his way across the plaza to his store.

And the next time Doctor Avila looked at the curtains his masked visitor was gone.

* * *

Much to young Alejandro's consternation, his grandfather insisted on make a leisurely journey from the _pueblo_ to the _hacienda_. While Don Alejandro's stated reason was: "I'm afraid, _mi nieto_ , that sometimes these old bones just refuse to hurry," his real reason was to give Zorro enough time to arrive and change into Diego well ahead of them.

After what seemed forever the party arrived home. One of the servants had barely time to grasp the reins of young Alejandro's horse before the boy vaulted out of the saddle and ran through the gate and headlong across the patio shouting, " _Papá_! _Mamá_! Roberto! I met Zorro! I helped him save someone!" This commotion brought both of his parents into the _sala_ in some alarm, followed closely by young Roberto.

"Alejandro, what's wrong? Are you hurt?" ask Margarita, frowning in feigned concern, for Diego had given her a very brief account of what had passed at the inn.

"Father," asked Diego, addressing Don Alejandro in an equally 'concerned' tone of voice, "what has happened?"

"I met Señor Zorro!" cried their wide-eyed son. "I saw him fight! I help him save one of the _gitanos_!"

The elder De la Vega merely smiled and said, "I think your son wants to tell you all about it."

"Very well, Alejandro," said his mother. "But please take a deep breath and begin at the beginning. And slowly."

"We were eating at the inn," began the boy, blurting it out all at once in spite of his mother's instruction. "And Senor Avila was complaining about the _gitanos_ , then the gypsy chief came and they grabbed him and yelled at him and threw him down on the floor and they were going to hurt him and suddenly Zorro was there and —"

"Alejandro," interrupted his mother, "I said 'slowly'."

Her son took a deep breath. "Zorro was there and he jumped over the railing and he flew across all the tables in one great leap —"

Here, unseen by his grandson, Don Alejandro's eyebrows rose as he looked at Diego. The two of them were hard-pressed to keep from smiling at the embellishment.

"— then with his whip he yanked a great knife from the man threatening the gypsy, and Zorro landed beside the gypsy, sword drawn, protecting him! But one of the customers wanted the reward for Zorro, so the customer drew his sword and they fought! You should have seen it! Zorro's sword moved like lightning! He moved almost like a dancer! He fought the customer back and forth and back and forth across the room! And all the while he was smiling!"

Here young Alejandro stopped on his own to take a breath.

"And then he saw someone drawing a pistol, but he didn't have whip because he had dropped it to draw his sword! So I ran across the room and —"

Margarita glared at Don Alejandro. "You let my son run into a sword fight?!" And this time her concern was not feigned.

The old don's face assumed an expression of guilt and he shrugged. "I had my hand on his shoulder but he is a strong lad, and I was truly not expecting him to run away from me," he replied apologetically.

"— and I picked up the whip and threw it to Zorro! And Zorro caught it and snapped the pistol out of the man's hand and sent it to the floor! Then Padre Vicente and Padre Juan showed up with the money that wasn't stolen at all, just hidden by Padre Juan and —"

"Padre Juan?" asked Margarita.

"Alejandro," began his Abuelo, I can explain the rest to your parents. I think I can do it a bit more calmly than you would. Why don't you and Roberto go upstairs and you can tell him all about the beginning of our trip to San Buenaventura as well as about the end?"

"Si _Abuelo_. Roberto, come! I will tell you all about Zorro and show you how Zorro moved!" he cried, heading off to their room with his brother in tow.

The elder Alejandro looked at his own son and grinned. "It seems we now have an expert on Zorro living among us! The Zorro who crosses the entire tavern floor in one great leap."

"Yes," replied Diego, chuckling but looking around to make sure none of the servants was nearby, and then lowering his voice considerably. "And we must take some care. He is an intelligent child. I almost did not want to approach him to thank him for tossing me the whip for fear he would somehow recognize me. But if I had not done it people would have wondered."

"No harm has come from that, I think," reply Don Alejandro. "He was too awed by the mask and the cape and the sword to wonder about who was behind the mask."

"Come," said Margarita, hooking her arm through Diego's. "It's almost time for dinner. Papá, will you be joining us?"

"It has not been that long since we dined at the inn, but I believe I will sit at table and have a glass of wine while the rest of you eat. Perhaps some soup if there is any. And I will tell you all about Don Lorencio and San Buenaventura and Don Lorencio's beautiful Arabian mares."


	8. Afterwards

A Hero's Heartache  
8 - _Afterwards_

Chapter 8: Afterwards

It was the quiet hour before the children's bedtime. Dinner was finished and everyone was enjoying a favorite pastime. Alejandro and Roberto remained in their room, where, judging from the noise, Alejandro was demonstrating Zorro's leaping abilities. Diego and his father were playing their usual game of chess. Margarita was reading to Isabella and Estevan, and Emmaline was already in bed. As Diego finished beating his father for the second time, young Alejandro entered the _sala_ and with a very solemn look on his face.

" _Papá_ ," he began, "I want you to teach me to fence like Zorro."

Diego was taken aback, completely unprepared for such a request. He struggled a few moments for a suitable reply. "Well I am afraid you are a little young yet, Alejandro. I'm not sure you could even hold a sword for more than a minute," he said gently. In spite of Margarita's — and Cresencia's — reassurances, Diego still wondered if Alejandro was too thin for his age.

"But _Papá_ , you have always told us that to become good at something you must practice and persevere. How can I persevere if I haven't even started? If I am to become as good as Zorro, I will need to persevere for a long time, won't I?"

 _Apparently it is possible to teach your children too much wisdom_ thought Diego. Now he laid his hand on his son's shoulder. "I'm afraid I've never been very good with a blade. Abuelo or even Bernardo might be a better teacher for you. But even so, I think only Zorro can fence like Zorro."

"Abuelo once told me it is a father's privilege to begin to teach his son how to handle a sword. He said his father taught him, and he taught you. I don't want Abuelo or Bernardo, I want _you_ to teach me, _Papá_."

This statement brought Margarita's reading to a halt.

"Besides, I know I can pick up a sword. I handed Abuelo his sword more than once on our trip. It wasn't that heavy."

Diego tried again. "Alejandro, very well, you can pick up a sword and hand it to someone. But can you hold it for any length of time? Move it about yet keep control of it? Thrust and parry and still keep your balance?"

"I know I can, Father. I truly want to fence as well as Zorro!" declared the boy, his eyes shining.

"A noble ambition," observed Don Alejandro, nodding at his grandson.

Diego was beginning to feel that this was an argument he could not win. He tried once more. "I'm afraid a steel sword is just too heavy for you right now, _mi hijo_."

Now Margarita spoke up: "Diego, what about a wooden sword?"

Her husband looked at her, puzzled. "What?"

"A wooden sword," she repeated. Surely there's a carpenter in the pueblo who could make you a regular-size sword out of wood, and make Alejandro a slightly smaller one. Then you could teach him the — uh, the positions, — is that what you call them? — and some of the footsteps —"

"Footwork," corrected her husband.

" — footwork, and I wouldn't have to worry about the two of you accidentally stabbing each other. In a year or so, when Alejandro has grown strong enough, he can take up a real sword and he'll already have some basic knowledge. If this goes well I can speak to my father about teaching him the use of a cavalry saber while mounted."

"An excellent idea!" chimed in Don Alejandro.

At this Diego leaned back into his chair and looked at his son, shaking his head in defeat. "Very well. One day next week you and I will go into the pueblo and find out if someone can make us wooden swords. Now, off to bed with you." Alejandro hugged everyone good-night, then ran back upstairs to tell his brother the good news.

* * *

Once the children had all gone to bed, Margarita remained in the _sala_ , reading. In the quiet, relaxed atmosphere it wasn't long before she dozed off. A nudge to her shoulder brought her back to reality. She blinked for a moment then looked up at Bernardo. The _muzo_ had a very worried look on his face. "Bernardo, what is it?"

He held up his left hand and with his right had pointed to the ring finger.

"Diego…"

Now he brought the tips of his index fingers together on his upper lip, just underneath his nose. Then he pulled them apart and down, tracing a frown.

"…is unhappy?"

He nodded vigorously and traced the frown again, this time longer.

"…very unhappy?"

He nodded again.

"Do you know where he is?"

Bernardo pointed over his shoulder toward the patio. Margarita rose, walked across the room, and opened the door. "Diego…" she called softly as she crossed the threshold. No answer. She took perhaps four or five paces into the darkness. "Diego?..." she called again, slightly louder. Still no answer. But as her eyes became accustomed to the dimness, she spotted a pale mass and realized it was Diego's shirt. He was sitting at the little table with his legs stretched out and his head leaning back looking at the stars. Their years of marriage had taught her that this was something he did when he was especially troubled. She quietly made her way to him and gently placed her hands on his shoulders.

" _Mi corazón_ , what is it?" she asked softly.

He shook his head slightly. "Nothing, _querida_."

"You and I both know better than that, Diego. Please, tell me. What is it?"

He sat up, then reached for one of her hands and kissed it. Then he sighed deeply and continued to stare into the darkness. "You should have seen his face," he said in a voice tinged with sadness."

"Whose face?"

"Alejandro's. When I walked over to him to thank him for tossing me the whip. There was such excitement, such admiration written there. Such adulation. He almost could not speak. " He paused and sighed again. "All for Zorro. And he will never look that way at me. He will never feel that way about his father."

She leaned down and kissed the top of his head, then pulled over a chair and sat down beside him, taking his hand in both of her own. "But he will feel that way. Now that he's no longer a little boy you and he will have lots of experiences together."

He shook his head and stared at the ground. Then he looked up. "When I first became Zorro I knew that playing the spineless scholar would be difficult. It was especially difficult with my father. You have no idea how hard it was to endure his criticism, his constant disapproval. I thought the hardest part of being Zorro was deceiving and disappointing him. But I was wrong. As hard as deceiving my father was, deceiving my own son is harder. And I can never tell him…"

"Diego, you can't tell him now because he is so young. He can't be trusted not to blurt it out to Roberto or to one of this friends or to the entire _pueblo_ if he's excited enough. But one day you will tell him. And when you do you will see that admiration in his eyes. I promise you will!"

"I hope you are right, _mi amor_."

"I know I'm right. In the meantime, you're his father. Teach him to fence like other fathers teach their sons to fence, even if you start with a wooden sword. I hardly think that a wooden sword will cause people to suspect that you are Zorro. Teach Alejandro to master a horse, not just ride one. Teach him about the bloodlines of our horses and explain the stud book. Teach him to play the guitar — I'm sure he'll be a much better pupil than I ever was. Teach him all the things that Zorro can't." Now she took both of his hands and pressed them together in her own. "It's good that our son has Zorro as a hero. But it's better that our son has Diego as a father."

He looked into her sea-green eyes. "And you as a mother. He's just the age I was when my mother died. I am so grateful that our children have you. Although how you manage the five of them I will never understand."

They rose together, and he took her in his arms and kissed her. She wrapped her arms around his waist and they held each other close for several minutes. "Do not leave us, _querida_ , I beg you."

"I have no plans to go anywhere. But, uh, speaking of our five children…do you remember what the gypsy woman said about a 'next child'? I think perhaps she may have actually known what she was talking about…."

\- **FIN** -

* * *

 **A/N:** A question for you readers: Do you think there was enough Zorro action in this story?


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